ampaign, _Captain_ Loomis. He
was late Chief of Artillery upon Rousseau's staff. Captain Loomis,
with his train, arrived in Cincinnati one Sunday morning, on his way
to the Army of Virginia. Upon each caisson and every piece of
artillery was plainly painted "Coldwater Battery."

Services in a church on Sixth Street were just concluded, and the
warlike array attracted the congregation's attention, and the rather
splendid figure of the young though "venerable-looking" Captain Loomis
demanded a large share of attention. The pastor of the church
introduced himself, spoke with admiration of the fine appearance of
the Captain's men, etc., and, with a hearty pressure of the hand,
remarked:

"Captain Loomis, yours is a noble motto; stick to that, stick to that,
my young soldier. You have many hardships to undergo, but your
glorious motto of COLD WATER will carry you safely through."

Loomis, for the first time, caught the idea of the parson, but was too
courteous to undeceive the preacher by informing him that his battery
was raised in the town of Coldwater, Michigan. I have spent many a
pleasant hour with the Captain, but never could "see" the "cold water"
part of his battery.

A very pretty and pathetic little poem was handed me by one of
Secessia's daughters, upon a prolific theme, entitled

THE DYING SOLDIER.

My noble commander! thank God, you have come;
You know the dear ones who are waiting at home,
And O! it were dreadful to die here alone,
No hand on my brow, and my comrades all gone.

I thought I would die many hours ago,
And those who are waiting me never could know
That here, in the faith of its happier years,
My soul has not wandered one moment from theirs.

The dead were around; but my soul was away
With the roses that bloom round my cottage to-day.
I thought that I sat where the jessamine twines,
And gathered the delicate buds from the vines.

And there--like a bird that had folded its wings,
At home, 'mid the smile of all beautiful things,
With sweet words of welcome, and kisses of love--
Was one I will miss in yon heaven above.

By the light that I saw on her radiant brow,
She watches and waits there and prays for me now.
My captain, bend low; for this poor, wounded side
Is draining my heart of its last crimson tide.

Some day, when you leave this dark place, and go free,
You will meet a fair girl--she wi